


The Yawning Grave

by oldtown156



Series: Oldie's songfics [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Halloween in July, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 08:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19764130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldtown156/pseuds/oldtown156
Summary: 'Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you-You can run but you can't escape'Ichigo is haunted... there is no alleviation.





	The Yawning Grave

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was a *mood* when I wrote it, haha.
> 
> Had the title song playing at the time, and for some *mood* while reading - [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmtCz1a3ikc)

The first time Ichigo met him, he was a small child lost in the wilderness.

By all accounts, he should’ve died that day.

~

His mother would be very upset to know he’d wandered into the woods alone again. Ichigo had started off playing with his friends at the local park before the whispering of leaves, rustlings of wee beasties, and the creeping slither of growing things called him away from the well-trod, paved trail. There was something at once unsettling and peaceful about Robinson Woods, yet even as an energetic seven year old, Ichigo was drawn to it. Other people generally stayed away from the place – claiming to see strange orbs of light, deer that circled visitors for no apparent reason, and the smell of lilacs in the dead of winter near the Indian burial grounds there.

Ichigo cared not. He explored a gully, its stream sluggish moving. Then Ichigo would move on to examining every interesting rock, flora and the occasional insect he could find. The ever giant – to him anyway – trees were canvassed for climbing potential and for any intriguing whirls of knots and gnarly bark. Ichigo once stumbled upon a chipmunk burrow, much to the striped rodent’s annoyance as it spit acorns out of its filled cheeks at him.

On that particular day, Ichigo invariably lost track of time. Last he knew, while sailing leaf boats down the trickling water of a brook, the sunlight had been streaming at an angle through the forest canopy. Now, the sun was just kissing the horizon. Immediately, Ichigo dropped what he was doing to run home – his mother was not going to be pleased if he wasn’t back before his father got home.

Unfortunately, Ichigo realized he’d strayed further than usual from his habitual spots. He slowed when none of the trees, or even the natural environs, looked familiar. Ichigo next tried a different direction with the same results, the sun sinking ever lower. Trying not to panic, he hunkered down next to a large, half buried stone, huddling into his light jacket from the growing chill to think. Ichigo had never been in the woods at night – everything began to lose its wonderment and spectacle, shifting into shadows and unidentifiable sounds. A sudden cut-off cry filled him with dread. Ichigo whimpered and tried to stop any tears from coming; he was too old to be doing that anymore. The cold began to seep into his very bones, his breath puffing in front of his face and then an orange-haired head jerkily started to nod off. The frosty air held a furtive appeal; a sluggish pleasantness that pulled Ichigo under its heavy blanket.

Next thing he knew, a noise brought him to slight wakefulness. Now lying curled on his side in the decaying leaves of early winter, he saw through one bleary honey-brown eye what seemed an obscure, murky figure.

“Ya lost, kid?” a gruff voice rumbled.

Years later he wouldn’t be able to recall much of the encounter except glimpses – inexplicable, faint impressions of startling blue in the darkness.

Ichigo would be discovered in the woods the next morning by his completely frantic parents, relatively unharmed except for some mild exposure even though the night had dropped to the single digits. He’d been discovered inside a small cavity made by huge tree roots some fifteen miles from where he’d entered the woods, baffling the search and rescue teams and authorities.

The small town newspaper would say it was a miracle – locals insisting that the forest’s spooky inhabitants were to blame.

A young Ichigo only knew deep down it was something, or someone else, who was responsible.

~

The next occurrence happened when Ichigo was thirteen.

He was walking home from school, a churning nausea lingering in his gut from his failed confession earlier that day to his best friend Uryū. While the black-haired, glasses wearing boy hadn’t refused with outright disgust, he also hadn’t been particularly pleased either.

Ichigo scuffed his red tennis shoes on the sidewalk before the crosswalk, feeling fairly miserable, sure that his life was over and nothing could change that. A sudden chill up his spine brought his head up and his eyes shot wide open to see a blue-haired man disappearing into the woods where Ichigo had played in his youth, but not before the man’s icy blue eyes seared into him even over the stretch of distance.

Was that…?

In the next moment, Ichigo realized the walking sign was on and he needed to get moving. He went to step into the road when black feathers swooped into his line of sight. A crow batted around his head with its wings, pecking at him.

_CAW CAW!!_

Heartbeat feeling like it was lodged in his throat, Ichigo fell down hard on the cement, his butt smarting from the fall just when a Mack truck speed by not a foot from where he previously stood. Only to crash right into a fire hydrant as the driver lost control of the vehicle.

Ichigo could only sit there as several bystanders rushed to him and towards the wrecked truck. Unable to answer any of the questions being posed to him from shock, Ichigo’s stare was drawn back to the woods where he’d last seen the man standing – left dumbfounded and wondering about stories of crazy, freak accidents and strange phenomenon happening to regular people.

Ichigo wouldn’t be able to shake off a lingering eerie, shaky sensation from within him for months after that.

~

The subsequent time, Ichigo wasn’t anywhere near Robinson Woods or his hometown.

Now attending college in a neighboring city, he was studying in a section of his school’s library. Seated in one of the upper levels of the old building, Ichigo was doing research for an English paper with several books scattered open on the table in front of him.

Wishing he could drink coffee there, Ichigo rubbed his tired face, feeling the end of midterms crunch. Once again, he tried to focus on the words in front of him, the assigned topic leaving him less than thrilled.

Poetry.

Now Ichigo loved to read; it’s why he was an English Lit. major. He just never really cared for poetic verse in general, except Shakespeare. The guy was ahead of his time, really.

Okay. FOCUS.

After another hour, Ichigo decided to walk around a bit to stretch his legs and retrieve a different book that might help him finish his paper. As he walked back to his spot, he suddenly tripped over seemingly nothing, dislodging the heavy book from his hands and causing it to drop loudly on the wooden table. Ichigo stopped his rapid descent before he could knock himself out, both hands braced on either side of the now open book. Looking covertly around to see if anyone caught his idiotic lapse in footing, Ichigo noticed most were either unaware or had music playing in their headphones. Ichigo released a quiet breath of relief and looked down at the written lines directly under his nose.

_And you as well must die, belovèd dust,_   
_And all your beauty stand you in no stead;_   
_This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,_   
_This body of flame and steel, before the gust_   
_Of Death, or under his autumnal frost,_   
_Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead_   
_Than the first leaf that fell, this wonder fled,_   
_Altered, estranged, disintegrated, lost._   
_Nor shall my love avail you in your hour._   
_In spite of all my love, you will arise_   
_Upon that day and wander down the air_   
_Obscurely as the unattended flower,_   
_It mattering not how beautiful you were,_   
_Or how belovèd above all else that dies._

Ichigo slowly straightened, feeling vaguely disconcerted and uneasy. He involuntarily glanced out the nearest window to his right, even though he couldn’t see anything from this height except clear, blue skies.

A flash of blue in his left eye’s peripheral had him spinning one eighty – the haunting image of icy blue eyes flashed before his mind’s eye without his say so, making Ichigo shake his head in disbelief and denial.

Decided now that he’d spent enough time in the library today if his foggy gray matter was going to play tricks on him, Ichigo would leave studying for another time, and thus quickly left to head back to the dorms.

The following morning, a report of carbon monoxide poisoning was detected in two students at an enclosed section of the library. The unsuspecting victims of a massive leak from a faulty furnace, thought to be sleeping when found, were then later confirmed to have died at the location that Ichigo had been studying not ten feet away.

What Ichigo had tried to brush off as weird happenstance and bouts of apophenia when he was younger, were now becoming distressingly apparent as no mere coincidences.

Ichigo didn’t know if the man, or God help him _specter_ , meant him ill-will or not, but the other’s presence was unmistakably _there_.

Now lying numbly on his bed after reading the news on his phone, Ichigo couldn’t begin to comprehend what the hell he was supposed to do about it.

~

After several more years, a college degree and a new job teaching at a city high school, Ichigo hadn’t conclusively learned much more.

When he hadn’t been busy getting through school, landing his first job, and silently mourning the lack of dates or potentials in his life, Ichigo had researched any and all possibilities of what might be happening to him.

Not that he’d gotten very promising results.

The blue-haired man could be anything from a vengeful spirit, a demon, to a guardian angel – which Ichigo was leaning more towards demonic than angel honestly. Somehow the man’s slightly cruel features didn’t really speak heavenly to him.

Ichigo had even looked into the folklore and history surrounding the woods, but nothing remotely resembling his specter was to be found, not a single trace or mention of the blue-haired man.

While that was definitely disappointing, there was a new disturbing development that compounded his situation.

The threatening, slightly sensual dreams Ichigo had been having recently were now haunting his sleep alongside his days, caused by the mystery of the specter.

The details were always quick to dissipate upon awakening, but Ichigo did at least remember visions of running in the dark, something so close to catching him, that whatever – or _whoever’s_ – breath could be felt on the back of his neck.

Sometimes Ichigo would wake up sure he’d been on the brink of being caught in the dream, other times he couldn’t remember any of it.

Two things kept making repeat appearances though. One; Ichigo was always hard when he woke up. Two; Ichigo would swear he heard the echoes of mad cackling and whispered promises ringing in his ears after awakening.

What is his life even?

~

Now in his mid-thirties, Ichigo was traveling back to visit his family for a much overdue visit from pure procrastination and hectic scheduling – as his long-suffering father like to carp at him for.

The hour drive wasn’t overtaxing by any means, but it was long enough to let his mind wander as it pleased.

Having just broken up with his current boyfriend, Ichigo was glad to get out of the city for awhile. It had been an amicable separation, neither parting with any particularly hard feelings, but it still partly felt like a failure to him. If he were completely honest with himself, Ichigo wasn’t really upset or surprised when it happened. In the end, Shūhei and he just wanted different things. Sure, he kinda liked the idea of the whole white-picket fence type scenario, but was it really meant for him? At this juncture in his life, could Ichigo claim he was happy? He’d done plenty of exciting things, traveled to places he’d always wanted to see, tried to live his life well and with integrity. But, had Ichigo really lived to the fullest?

The whole thing had Ichigo reassessing his life, much to his consternation. Sigh. What a morose mood he was in.

Also, there was _him_ -

-whether from feeling a preternatural tingle of being watched, or just the instinctive urge to head down a different street than normal, that presence was always there. Like a lingering miasma hanging over him, or a blemish on the skin that couldn’t be forgotten or rubbed away, permanent and persistent in everything.

There hadn’t been any notable experiences in years, but in the last week almost every night, Ichigo started having a different kind of dream than before.

He was walking in those same woods, his dream self instinctively knowing them as such, except not as a child, but an older version of himself. Ichigo would continue to walk unerringly until he arrived at a disquieting tableau.

Dressed in a white t-shirt and blue jeans of all things, the blue-haired man was crouched on his haunches by what looked like a body, its face hidden and identity unclear – the clothing indistinguishable.

Ichigo wanted to ask what the hell the man thought he was doing, but couldn’t, he wasn’t able to speak, voice trapped in his throat. The specter wasn’t moving, only seemed to be studying the prone figure in front of him. As Ichigo would attempt to come closer, a risky action to be sure, nonetheless unafraid until the other would slowly turn his head and smile widely, full teeth on display.

_‘About time.’_

And that’s when Ichigo would blink awake, drowsily trying to clear his thoughts and make sense of what he’d just seen.

Ichigo had suspected, what if this whole time, he was supposed to be baring testament to something unfathomable and nameless and frustratingly wasn’t adept enough to grasp it?

Ichigo entered the town limits before he could ruminate on it any longer, slowing down to turn onto the recognizable streets of home.

~

Later that night when he laid down to sleep in his old childhood bedroom – now a guest room, still pleasantly full from the enjoyable late dinner with his family, Ichigo bundled up the covers around his ears to ward against the chill in the air. Frequent insomnia had plagued him for years, mostly instigated by his dreams, so Ichigo settled in for a long night.

At the time betwixt dawn and dusk, Ichigo was disturbed from a light sleep by a draft of cold, like a frigid breath, fluttering his hair. He opened sleepy brown eyes to see he wasn’t imagining it. The bedroom curtains were shifting just enough, as if the window were cracked to let in the outside air, though Ichigo knew that wasn’t the case.

Ichigo was abruptly awake. Trying to hush his shaky breathing, he hesitantly scanned the corners of the room, the edges of the bed and then the door – which was open.

Ichigo had closed it last night to keep the warm air from the vents inside instead of escaping out to the drafty hallways. Ichigo slowly peeled back the covers and tiptoed to close the door, but not before braving the unknown dimness beyond and sticking his head past the threshold, sure that something was waiting there to grab him. Swallowing heavily, Ichigo quickly peeked, not noticing when he’d shut his eyes, to see a whole lot of nothing.

Legs a little weak, Ichigo leaned on the doorjamb in relief, the resounding quiet actually welcome under the circumstances.

Ichigo went to close the door, when a whisper invaded his ear.

_‘Ya lost, kid?’_

Ichigo’s back flew against the door, a shouted gasp leaving him.

Suddenly, resolutely, Ichigo had had enough. Hands fisted at his sides and through gritted teeth, he said, “What do you _want_?”

Nothing. No response. Through Ichigo’s now acute hearing, he would swear he heard the faintest trace of far off laughter.

Right. That’s it.

This needs to end one way or another.

Ichigo knew where he needed to go. He hadn’t been back there in over two decades. Not since the incident from when he was seven.

Robinson Woods.

~

Ichigo hurried down the park trail in the early morning light, garbed in the first heavy coat he’d blindly fished around for in the still dark entryway closet on the way out, not wanting to wake anyone by switching on a light. In the nondescript tan coat, sweats and his father’s hiking boats, Ichigo then turned from the trail to embark into the woods, not worried if it was the right way.

He’d never truly forgotten the entrance to his old youthful haunt.

As he bypassed a couple trees, Ichigo paused to consider what the best route to take would be. He remembered there was an elevated outcrop that overlooked the burial grounds and figured that was a good a place as any to begin.

Despite the reason he was here, Ichigo felt almost nostalgic upon discovering an old craving he’d made in a silver maple – the initials I and K still clearly imprinted in the bark. A woodpecker’s hammered tapping greeted him after walking for several minutes, perhaps making a last ditch effort at scavenging food before leaving for the winter. Cloud laden skies colored everything in muted grays, browns and blacks. The forest was otherwise silent and forlorn in appearance, trees bare and grasses withered and decorated in hoarfrost.

Finally, according to the time on his phone, after about twenty minutes traversing the woods, Ichigo stopped to rest and looked down at the forest floor from the outcrop. Now warmer from the brisk hike, Ichigo squinted to just make out his destination. He shuffled his feet, wondering if any of his family was awake yet. Ichigo hadn’t left a note or anything, and should probably text one of his sisters to let them know he’d be back later.

It was some loose vegetation and roots crumbling away that caused Ichigo to lose his footing and fall some forty feet to the ground below, not the assistant of any supernatural forces.

If he’d had the time, Ichigo would have probably cussed up a storm.

As it was, it happened in the blink of an eye and then nothing.

~

Next he knew, Ichigo was lying uncomfortably on the leaf strewn ground, a stick digging into his lower back. He dazedly tried to catalog if anything was broken or ruptured, but remarkably nothing seemed to be heavily damaged. Ichigo lay there a bit longer and just breathed, before eventually, achingly, stumbling to his feet. Wobbling on trembling leg muscles, Ichigo checked his back to find a tear in the coat, but no blood thankfully.

A rustling brought his head up to see his specter not even five feet in front of him, nonchalantly standing in the same incongruous white t-shirt with hands stuffed down jean pockets, a blank expression on his angular face and insolent set to his shoulders.

“Y-You… ?!” Ichigo could barely get out.

“Yeah,” the man almost sounded bored.

Angry, Ichigo walked a couple of steps before a wave of dizziness stopped him short of doing – well he wasn’t sure what – to the guy, but he tipped sideways towards a nearby tree to wait until the world quit spinning.

“You might wanna wait a moment before you try that again.” The specter pointed out in a gravelly, yet sinful voice, like silk sheets and dark chocolate made audible to assault his ears. Much to Ichigo’s dismay; for he enjoyed both of those things.

It was all Ichigo could do to muster up a glare.

“What… What do you want?” he finally gasped.

The specter tsked under his breath. “What do I want… ? Aren’t you asking the wrong question first?”

Ichigo furrowed his brows.

The other took a step closer. “Shouldn’t it be - _what_ am I?” An amused light entered blue, oh so extremely blue eyes.

Ichigo tried to straighten back up in preparation to retreat if need be. “I- I don’t know. I’ve never known, damn you.”

The blue apparition let out a bark of laughter, head thrown back. “Oh, yes, you do. You’ve always known… Ichigo.”

Then, in the fraction of a second, the man appeared much closer, circling around Ichigo, predator like. Ichigo froze stock-still, tracking blue out of wide eyes. “Huh?”

“Hm, I’ve been called many things. People have given me numerous forms. Written countless odes and stories in my honor and cursed my name in the next instance.” He whispered close behind Ichigo. “I’ve been around since before things even had names.”

The man stepped back in front of Ichigo again to watch him. “Ah, I can tell by your face, that it’s sinking in,” he said sympathetically.

Yes. It was true. Ichigo had known, but it had remained buried since he was a child, whether in fear or survival of the knowledge. Now, upon closer inspection, the details of the man’s visage revealed deathly pale skin, lips with the slightest tinge of blue to them, purplish, bruise like undertones beneath his eyes and no breathy vapors to be seen in the cold. “You… You’re-”

“That’s right.” Satisfied, blue tilted his head and smirked.

“But why? Why are you here now? Why-?!” Ichigo stopped and started to turn, caught just a glimpse of something behind him, when a cold hand cupped his cheek.

“Don’t. No looking back.” His specter said, disarmingly sincere this time.

Ichigo tentatively reached to touch the back of his head where a gaping fissure was exposed, his shaky hand coming away covered in blood and bits of orange hair. “But it doesn’t even hurt,” he murmured detachedly.

“Nothing will hurt ever again.” Large hands that were turning warmer by the second cradled Ichigo’s face. Crystalline eyes studied his intently for a moment. “You want to know why you?”

Ichigo nodded numbly.

“That day. You weren’t supposed to leave the forest alive that day.”

“Why did I?”

“Cause I changed my mind.” Blue stated like it was just that simple. A thumb caressed Ichigo’s cheekbone. “I- You got a chance to live. Do you regret it?”

Ichigo paused. “No,” he whispered. “I don’t have regrets.”

“Okay.” Blue reached back to prod at Ichigo’s skull, a look of intense concentration shone through azure eyes, now more like the temperate waters of the Caribbean, and then- “There. You ready now?”

For some reason, Ichigo was no longer the least bit afraid and clasped the now entirely clean hand held out to him firmly.

Blue tugged Ichigo to follow the other’s long strides.

“Are we heading somewhere?”

“Wherever we want to go. For always. There’s nothing to stop us. Not when you’re with me.”

“Oh.” Ichigo replied succinctly, still adjusting to this new surreal truth. “Um, what should I call you?”

“Grimmjow.” His specter – now named – smiled back warmly over a broad shoulder. “But you can call me _Grim_.”

_Finis_

******

_“And you as well must die,” by Edna St. Vincent Millay_

_‘The Yawning Grave’ by Lord Huron_

**Author's Note:**

> Did you guess who Grimmjow is? XD  
> Also, Robinson Woods is a real place in Illinois that is supposedly haunted - spooky~


End file.
